


Burning Risk

by soy_em



Series: Wincest Love Week 2017 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Rough Sex, Weecest, sam is 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: Sam and Dean's sparring practice gets a little out of control.





	Burning Risk

**Author's Note:**

> For Wincest Love Week Day 2
> 
> Prompt: Carpet burns

Sam’s used to bruises, cuts, scrapes, scratches, black eyes, sore muscles. You name the minor injury, he’s experienced it. Part and parcel of the job, and all too often, of their Dad’s rigorous training sessions.

That’s how he finds himself one Saturday morning stretching sore muscles in the living room of their shitty rental apartment, trying to ease out the strain from the run their Dad had forced on them the day before. Dad’s not even around, he’s off gathering supplies from the hunter network, but Sam knows he’d still find a way to discover if the boys had deviated from his strict training schedule. Sam’s more than willing to fight with his Dad; sometimes it seems like that’s all they do these days. But he’s learnt to pick his battles, and the training schedule isn’t worth the bother. 

Dean, of course, is still luxuriating in bed. He’d been out the night before, taking advantage of having an actual real ID to hit up the town’s bars while he’s got a bit of money in his pockets. He’d come back late, reeking of booze and perfume, and Sam had set his teeth as his brother stumbled into the other bed, jealousy roaring through his veins. 

Huffing again with remembered annoyance, Sam bends himself forward, trying to stretch out a cramp in his back. Half the time the aches aren’t even due to the runs, but simple growing pains as it feels like he outgrows clothes every other week. Even now, his ankles are peeking out of the bottom of his tracksuit bottoms. 

There’s the sound of stumbling behind him, and Sam peers upside down through his legs as Dean crashes through the hallway into the lounge. His brother’s beautiful face looks violently green as Dean throws himself down into one of the chairs.

“Sparring practice today,” Dean grinds out, fumbling for the coffee pot.

“Sure,” Sam says, mocking. “You’re totally up for that.”

“I am,” Dean insists, before pouring the coffee directly from the pot into his mouth.

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll still kick your ass, Sammy, don’t worry,” Dean replies. 

Sam snorts, but decides to leave Dean to his fantasies. Their sparring has been getting more and more even as Sam’s learns how to control his extra inches, and that’s before Dean’s hangover is taken into account. He decides again to pick his battles, and continues stretching. 

Dean’s strangely quiet at the table, and when Sam peers back, his brother’s eyes are fixed on him. “Quit staring at me,” he snaps, sure that Dean is storing up jibes about Sam’s awkward body.

“Sorry Sammy, spaced out,” Dean says, flushing lightly, and Sam rolls his eyes. Dean’s hangover must be worse than he thought if he doesn’t even have a comeback to Sam’s sass.

So Sam’s surprised when, as he finishes his stretching, Dean stands up and says, “Ready for sparring practice?” 

“Are you sure?” he feels obliged to ask.

“Shut up and fight me, Sam,” is Deans’ response, and Sam’s not going to say no to that. There’s enough space in front of the sofa for them to practice, even if it’s a bit tight; their Dad is always encouraging them to practice in small spaces anyway so that they can adapt their tactics accordingly. 

“Ready?” he asks, crouching slightly. 

Dean stands up and stalks across to him, steadier on his feet after the coffee. “Always,” he replies.

They face off for a matter of seconds before grappling, They know each other so well that it’s both easy and appallingly difficult to fight each other; there are no new moves and no surprises, just whoever is best at reacting to the environment they find themselves in.

Perhaps Sam is overconfident, thinking that Dean’s responses will be off due to the alcohol sloshing around in his brother’s system, but he’s quickly surprised to find himself pinned face down, Dean straddling his back.

“Gotcha,” Dean says, triumphantly, pinning Sam’s arms. Sam growls, furious at himself, because every time he thinks he’s getting a handle on how to beat Dean his brother seems to pull something else out of the bag. Not to mention the fact that now that he’s officially an adult, being pinned by Dean is incredibly humiliating. And then there’s the issue that his body, his traitorous body that Sam is sure should have grown out of this years ago, really, really, really likes the feeling of Dean on top of him.

Sam buries his head in the carpet as he feels his body starting to react, the familiar feelings of shame and arousal washing over him.

“Get off of me,” he grunts, trying to buck Dean off.

“Oh hell no,” Dean says, gleefully. 

“Dean,” Sam whines, feeling his voice starting to slip back into a tone he’d been trying to abandon since he was fourteen - mainly because it just riles Dean up to torture him more.

“Sammy,” Dean mocks back, right on cue.

Sam wriggles again, desperately trying to get free, and that’s when he feels it. Dean is hard, his cock pressing against Sam’s butt.

They both freeze, for a long, aching moment, as Sam contemplates the fact that he might be able to get everything he’s ever wanted. Then Dean scrambles backwards, muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he tries to push himself off of Sam’s back.

But Sam is fast and powered by years of want. He shoots upright, reaching back to grab at Dean’s wrist. “No, Dean, don’t,” he stutters, tugging hard. Dean stills again, and Sam topples himself forwards, pulling Dean along with him until Dean is flush against his back again.

Dean inhales sharply behind him, free hand settling on Sam’s slim waist. Sam lets his hand go lax, loosening his grip on Dean, and he feels his brother instinctively grip Sam’s forearms again, pinning them against his back. Sam sighs, letting his chest fall forwards while arching his back so his ass presses more firmly against Dean.

He’s taking a huge risk, he knows; Dean might just have had an instinctive reaction to wrestling that has nothing to do with Sam, and that might mean that Dean hates him now. His worst fear has always been that dean will find out about his feelings and think he’s a freak. But Sam is putting his trust in the half-looks and obsessive attention his brother pays him, hoping that Dean feels the same way. His heart pounds as he waits for Dean’s reaction.

His risk pays off when his brother groans and pushes forwards. “Sammy,” Dean says, question unasked but clear to the brother who has made it his life’s work to know everything about his older sibling. 

“Yes, Dean.” Sam’s response is clear and unequivocal, leaving no room for doubt. 

“Sammy,” Dean says again, this time a soft sigh.

Shivers race across Sam’s skin at the tone, knowing that Dean has accepted. He pushes back again, moving underneath Dean to try and spur his brother into action; with his hands held behind his back and Dean’s weight across his legs, there’s little else he can do.

Luckily, the movement seems to wake Dean up; he tightens his grip on Sam’s wrists and pushes forwards himself, rocking his cock into Sam’s ass. Sam gasps, unable to stop his reaction at finally feeling something he’s been dreaming about for years. 

“God, Sammy,” Dean mutters, rocking forwards again. It only takes Dean a second to start up a rhythm, pushing Sam into the floor with every thrust. This certainly isn’t how Sam had imagined their first time, even in the most hopeful moments when he could imagine it happening at all. If anything, he’d thought that Dean’s overdeveloped sense of protectiveness would lead to months of foreplay, of building up to them finally having sex as Dean got over his hangups about Sam being his little brother (Sam had lost those worries when he was approximately fourteen and he’d realised that the crush he had on his older brother wasn’t going anywhere). 

Dean’s movements are getting faster, and Sam’s body is reacting, more to the idea of Dean getting off behind him than to any physical relief he’s getting himself. His hips are tilted slightly upwards, and he can feel his hard cock, rubbing against the worn material of his boxers, but he’s not low enough to get any friction from the floor and he can’t get a hand on himself either. Dean’s starting to make little grunts, the warmth of his cock bleeding through Sam’s shorts, and Sam would swear he can feel a trickle of wetness as well, hoping that its Dean leaking against him. The thought is enough to make him whimper. 

“Dean, touch me,” he asks, trying to keep his voice away from begging, but not sure if he’s made it. Dean doesn’t seem to notice anyway, lost in his own movements, hand running across Sam’s back and side, leaving trails of fire in its wake. 

“Dean!” Sam’s more insistent now, and with a rush of hot shame he realises that he’s definitely crossed the line into begging. But he’s so desperate for Dean to touch him, for some friction on his cock, that he feels like he’d do anything right now. 

Sam’s frantic tone seems to bleed through Dean’s hurried actions, because he pauses for a moment. “What do you want?” he asks, voice so rough that Sam trembles. 

“Touch me Dean, please.”

He feels Dean shudder, before his brother’s hand snakes across his ribs and under to his belly. Dean scratches lightly at the soft skin beneath Sam’s navel before he moves his hand into Sam’s boxers and grips his cock.

“That better?” Dean asks.

“Fuck yes.” Sam’s so elated that he can barely form words, fireworks shooting off in his mind.

Dean gives a little noise of visceral satisfaction, before he resumes thrusting against Sam, even harder than before. Sam’s back is starting to ache from the strain of being held up by Dean’s grip on his wrists, and more worryingly, his knees are starting to burn from contact with the carpet. But he’s barely able to process those feelings compared to the incandescent feeling of his cock fucking through Dean’s fist every time his brother moves against his back; Dean’s damp breath scalding his neck; and the hard line of Dean’s cock riding his ass. 

Sam feels his body starting to tighten, arousal singing through his blood and dancing behind his eyes. He pushes wildly against Dean, slamming his hips back against his brother’s before as he comes, shooting sticky onto Dean’s hand.

“Fuck, Sammy, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chants, letting go of Sam’s wrists abruptly so that Sam faceplants into the carpet. Both Dean’s hands settle on Sam’s hips as he brother pushes hard against him, bruising Sam’s sides as Dean shudders. Dean shouts and Sam feels wetness spread against his ass as Dean comes, before his brother slumps forwards, burying his face in Sam’s neck.

They crash into the carpet, Dean’s entire weight falling onto Sam. More aches are blooming across Sam’s body, no doubt requiring more stretching; but Sam can’t bring himself to care. Fire prickles across his face and knees, his skin no doubt a painful, blistered red; but Sam is luxuriating in the fact that Dean is still slumped across him. His brother hasn’t freaked out and pulled away immediately, and that can only be a good thing. 

Sam reaches his arm back, the abused muscles shaking as he fumbles to get his hands on Dean. Blindly, he pets down Dean’s side and fists his hands in his brother’s t-shirt, taking preemptive action against any possible freakout. 

Instead of Dean fleeing, Sam feels his brother’s lips kissing across his neck, sucking lightly at his skin. Sam sighs deeply, content; maybe this is going to be ok. He relaxes against the floor, eyelids drooping; the comforting weight of Dean across his back lulling him towards sleep. It might not be the most comfortable place he’s ever napped, but he and Dean have experienced far worse. 

As he drifts off, he reflects that he’s used to bruises, cuts, scrapes, scratches, black eyes, sore muscles. But carpet burns, that’s a new one.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](https://soy-em.tumblr.com/).


End file.
